


Laundry Day

by raiast



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Laundry Wizardry, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Fall (Hannibal)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 20:38:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17107736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiast/pseuds/raiast
Summary: Hannibal folds laundry. Will watches.





	Laundry Day

**Author's Note:**

> I was folding laundry today and, as ever, began wondering what the task would be like when set before our favorite Murder Husbands and then this happened.

“All I’m saying is  _ why _ go through the trouble of folding them when they’re just gonna end up back on the bed? You know, this wouldn’t even be an issue if you didn’t insist on a questionably high number of sheets.”

“And all  _ I’m _ saying, Will, is that a person should own more than one set of bed linens. And it would hardly seem such an insurmountable task if you had kept up with laundry as you were supposed to instead of waiting until we were out of fresh sheets.” Hannibal finished folding the pillowcase in his hands into a neat square before setting it down on the table with its mates.

Will sighed into his wine glass at the accusation. “I’d have been more motivated to wash them in a timely manner if they were our only option.” It was a weak defense, he knew, but his only one. “I just don’t get it, is all I’m saying. Do we have more than one bed?”

That earned him a reproachful glance from Hannibal as he primly set another folded pillowcase on the growing stack. “You know very well we do not.”

“Exactly! So  _ why _ do we need fives sets of sheets?”

“I would have thought with your penchant for night sweats you would have had a few spare sets lying around Wolf Trap.”

Will stared at him blankly. “That’s what towels are for.”

The flourish of a flat sheet being shaken out obscured his view for a moment, and then there was Hannibal’s face again, giving him a most disapproving look. “You have been a bachelor for far too long, Will.”

Part of Will wanted to bristle at the barb, though he knew Hannibal didn’t truly mean any offense by it. Instead he reached for the wine bottle to refill his glass as Hannibal plucked a fitted sheet from the tangled mess in the basket between them.  “I do believe your timeline as a bachelor far exceeds my own,” Will shot back; Hannibal’s lips twisted downward slightly at the usage of the word ‘far’. A scoff fell from Will’s lips as he continued. “And anyways, I hardly think  _ I’m _ the oddity here. When I was growing up we had a set of sheets for my  _ dad’s _ bed and a set for  _ my _ \--How the hell did you do that?” 

Hannibal arched a light eyebrow at him quizzically. “Do what?”

“That,  _ that _ !” Will exclaimed, pointing at the fitted sheet that Hannibal had somehow transformed into a perfect square. “How the hell did you manage that?”

“Honestly, Will,” Hannibal sighed forlornly, because apparently Will was all about disappointing Hannibal today. “You’d know how to fold a fitted sheet if you’d ever made the effort.”

“No,” Will countered stubbornly. “I think it’s a general consensus that there is no good way to fold a fitted sheet. You and Martha Stewart may be the only two people on the whole damned planet that can.” Will took another sip of wine. “Don’t know why I’m surprised, though. You’re perfect at everything else; why  _ not  _ folding sheets?” he grumbled into his glass.

“Come here, Will,” Hannibal beckoned, and his tone left no doubt in Will that it was not a request. Will set his wine glass down and walked around the table to stand beside Hannibal, who promptly thrust a fitted sheet into Will’s hands. Will stared at it for a moment before Hannibal twisted to slide behind him, a warm, solid presence pressed against Will’s back.

A beautiful pair of hands skimmed down Will’s arms to join his hands in the sheet, orienting it so that they both had their hands tucked into two of the puckered corners. Hannibal guided Will’s arms to stretch out to their full span; his right hand grasped Will’s softly, thumb brushing across the inside of his wrist tenderly before he twisted the angle of his hand so it was holding the corner from the outside. “Now bring this corner over to tuck into the other,” he murmured against the side of his head as he guided Will through the steps. “This becomes your new right corner. Now rotate the sheet to tuck the left side the same…” his words puffed hot breaths right into Will’s ear, sending a full body shiver through him; the movement only further pressed him back against Hannibal.

Will wanted to tip his head back against Hannibal’s shoulder, tilt it in the way that Hannibal knew meant he wanted his lips on his neck. Before he could think to complete the action, Hannibal was speaking again. “Now you’ve got a square. So we follow the same steps as a flat sheet…” he guided Will through the last few motions until Will was staring in amazement at the perfect square in his hands.

“Huh.”

“Very good, Will,” Hannibal’s lips brushed across the shell of his ear. Will preened at the praise. He was about to turn his head, seek out those soft lips with his own, but then Hannibal was pulling away from him. “Repetition breeds familiarity. Try it again.”

Will pulled another fitted sheet from the basket, tried to recall the actual steps of the process instead of the liquid heat that had flowed through his veins at Hannibal’s touch. Without the precision of Hannibal’s hands to guide him it didn’t turn out as neatly as his first attempt had, but it must have resembled a square enough to pass the test, because Hannibal cooed, “Well done. Another,” brushing his hand across Will’s low back as he stepped around the table to claim the empty seat as his own.

“See? Not so difficult is it?” Hannibal all but purred, plucking up Will’s forgotten wine glass to take a sip as he watched the young man work. 

Will hastened to finish folding the remaining laundry, eager to get sheets on their bed that, he wagered, wouldn’t remain clean for long.


End file.
